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Who Am I?

I try to make a practice of answering the questions I ask myself. You know the ones. The rampant, seemly benign questions that run through your head at break neck speed. Often we don’t even hear ourselves asking them. As a therapist, I hear my clients questions of themselves. It is always easier to hear others questions.

So last week when I asked, “Who am I?” or, to be exact, “Who the hell am I?” I set out to answer myself, again.

Interestingly and serendipitously my answer came as a result of renaming this blog to being Boswell. My friend, Wikipedia, informed me that the surname Boswell was passed into the English Language as a term…Boswellian, Boswellism…meaning a constant companion and observer of life, especially one who records those observations through writing. Who knew?

I have been writing stories or journaling since my first, locked, with the tiniest key ever, diary was given to me in grade school. I began my entries with Dear Diary. I quickly abandoned that salutation when I realized I wanted to write to a reader, not to an inanimate object. I longed to tell my version of life to someone. I felt less alone conjuring a reader nodding his or her head in shared recognition of an examined moment, possibly even laughing or crying with me as I spilled my version of life onto the page. I hoped my imaginary audience would feel less alone and more understood as I exposed myself to self scrutiny.

So here I am, 40 some years later, with the technological creation of the über diary. I write you read. I feel blessed.

I have been being me all along, I just didn’t know it!

Take a look at this…it is a scene from Sherlock Holmes talking to Watson. FInding my name has been very validating…

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One thought on “Who Am I?”

Patricia, now I got it, and it was wonderful. I just finished a book which I kind of think (but am not sure) that you would like — and maybe love as I did. Paul Auster’s WINTER JOURNAL. I would love to talk with you about it, but in a nutshell, it is a memoir as he approaches what he considers to be old age (the winter of my life, he says) — he is turning 64. It is written in the second person, which is an astonishing experience. It is also full of the tiniest of details (which might be tedious for some) which for me gave enourmous texture to the novel. It is totally insightful and revealing. There are other characters in the novel, but only through his eyes, they don’t exist as self-sustaining characters.
You just kind of feel like he has opened this door to you and has invited you into his soul, his mind, his memory . . . his life.
I may be wrong, but I think you will find it absorbing and satisfying as I did. It was published this year — 2012.

Loving Life

My "Loving Life" page is an open forum, by readers, that collects life-loving moments. You are invited to tell your story by sharing how you follow your interests, listen to your heart, and pursue your dreams.
( Submit a story here. )

kim on Loving LifeHOPELESSLY DEVOTED
what's funny is everyone
worships Something all day,
even the coldest fish
rabid devotion swims
in the blood
like corpuscles
of Light
people just make
small gods
of their parnters
or kids
dreams or
desires
power
or money
being mad
or being liked
their worries,fears
or doubts,
regrets or pain
so why not
just make
an all-consuming,
shining
Deity of
Love?
This is by tosha silver..enjoy

kim on Loving LifeI love my life why? They are doing a research study at my hospital on stroke patients. Most of the patients have a severe stroke affecting one side. They are be treated with stem cells. There is one man who absolutely amazes us when we scan him. The first time he came he couldn't move his entire left side or stand up. The next time he stood. Then he took 10 steps to the table. Everytime he comes the improvement is absolutely stunning. We are so excited that severe stroke victims can be helped by these stem cells. We asked the where they came from and they are manufactured and sent in. I love my life when I get to be part of amazing medicine..............